


names and Names

by Winterling42



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dresden Files Fusion, First Meetings, Gen, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterling42/pseuds/Winterling42
Summary: There are things that always happen the same way, a hundred thousand times in a hundred thousand worlds.Always, Nott meets Caleb in jail.
Relationships: Nott/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	names and Names

There are things that happen over and over again, like a wheel will hit the same imperfection on its edge with each rotation. 

So Nott was thrown in a jail cell. The big tree-thing growled at her in a language she had barely begun to understand, the words mushy and ground up in its broken-bark mouth. It said something like, “And don’t even THINK about leaving.” 

Nott replied with an eloquent middle finger, since she spoke a lot less Sylvan than she understood. The monster only laughed. “You’d better hope your clan pays _fuascailte_ , goblin. You’d make good compost.” He turned and shambled off down the dirt tunnel before Nott could think of a good comeback. 

She was reduced to yelling “Yah, fuck you!” after him in the broken Sylvan her clan spoke. They said that often enough for her to know its meaning. 

There was a rusty laugh in the back corner, and Nott spun to face it quick as lightning. It was pitch black in here, under the forest, but she could see a human shape huddled against the earthen wall. 

She could smell him too, shit and burnt amber and unwashed man. Nott fought the instinct to clutch at her twitching nose to stop it moving. That was the thing she hated most--that she was no longer in control of her body. Her ears moved on their own, her nose wouldn’t stop twitching. Her heart beat too fast in her thin chest. 

“Hallo there,” the man said, uncurling a little from his huddle. “Pissed off the treants, did you?” 

Nott hesitated. Crept a few steps closer, seeing pale skin under an old aviators coat, dirty hair that might have been red if it was clean. “They’re very easily annoyed,” she offered, cautiously. “All I needed was a, a nip of that old nectar.” 

The man laughed again, a sharp bark of sound that made her flinch. “Entschuldigung, I cannot see for shit in here,” he said, and muttered, “ _lux tripundi_.” And suddenly, in his hand there was light. A globe of amber-gold balanced on his palm, still soft. As she watched, the light swelled and split like the lava lamp Yeza had had in college. Four hand-sized blobs of light spread out across the ceiling, casting long shadows across the burrow of a prison cell. Nott crouched low to the ground, eyes casting around instinctively for shelter. 

But the man did not shout, or flinch away from her. He actually uncurled a little more, until he was slouched casually against the curve of the wall, one foot extended. He wasn’t looking directly at her, either--his eyes were focused just off of her shoulder. “Hallo,” he said again. And she could _smell_ the fear on him, a bitter scent like the hedges after she’d finished trimming them. Her body thought it was a good smell.

Nott fought the urge to throw up and edged closer, until she was pressed against the wall directly opposite her cellmate. “Hello.” 

He jerked his lips into what might have been a smile, had it lasted longer. “Do you have a name? Or something I could call you.” 

It had been so long since anyone had asked her that and not meant it as a cruel joke. Nott watched him for a few moments, waiting for the punchline. But he only waited, and looked up at his lights. “Nott,” she said at last. Blurted, really, and watched his eyes come back to her. “Nott the Brave.” 

“That is a good name,” he said, seriously. Nott felt something uncomfortable flutter in her chest. “Nott, I am Caleb.” (And she was fey--or at least her body was. She should have known the difference between a name and a Name, even _part_ of one. But when had she ever had the chance to know a mortal’s Name? All the humans she had seen with these eyes had been dead, or too terrified to exchange names.)

“Caleb.” She sounded out the name suspiciously, still watching him with all the intensity of a hawk. But he had gone back to looking at his lights, twitching his fingers to make them move across the rough ceiling. After a moment she tilted her head back to watch them too, the slow dance like waves across the dark earth. “It’s a good name,” she whispered, just to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr at [critical-ramblings](https://www.critical-ramblings.tumblr.com)!


End file.
